


Guardian Escapades

by Omeganixtra



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Cayde the Cuddle Monster, Destiny Is My Playground, F/M, Gen, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Prompts Galore, this will be domestic and you will L I K E I T
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-02 09:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19439086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeganixtra/pseuds/Omeganixtra
Summary: A collection of prompts for everyone’s favorite Exo Vanguard, Cayde-6, and the Guardian





	1. Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: finding the other wearing their clothes

It’s early—far too early an hour to demand coherency of anyone, but his Ghost’s insistent nudges eventually succeeds in waking him up.

Grumbling all the while, Cayde briefly glances at the warm body still sleeping peacefully beneath the sheets and mouths a curse at Sundance, who simply replies with a snooty chirp before she flies out through the open door and into the kitchenette.

His bedpartner lets out a _very_ disgruntled huff when he slips out from beneath the covers and Cayde barely conceals a grin before he toes his way out of the bedroom without making too much noise to the best of his abilities.

Out in the kitchen Sundance hovers by the coffee machine and wordlessly Cayde drags himself to the counter where he keeps the ground beans and the filters.

He’s an Exo, yeah, but brain’s still got some old habits and coffee first thing in the morning has apparently been one of them.

As soon as the infernal machine is busy at work making the blessedly caffeinated liquid he stumbles over to an armchair where a lacy bra, a matching set of panties and his own armored pants are lying haphazardly. He spends a few moments grinning whilst fondly remembering the night before, only to be brought out of the daydream when the coffee machine shrilly announces that his beverage is finished.

He grimaces when he hears a muffled curse coming from the bedroom and wordlessly hauls out an extra cup from the cupboard.

“Cayde, what are you doing?”

Now, usually Cayde is practically the king of smoothness when it comes to the dreaded ‘day after’, but this time… this time he is utterly taken by surprise by the sight that meets him when he turns to look at his partner.

His Guardian is small, almost freakishly so, and it is a fact that he has pointed out many a time to his lady love—possibly to the extend where he has been threatened with bodily harm if he should choose to continue, but who cares about the details, eh?—but seeing her stumble through the doorway to his bedroom, looking sleep-rumpled with her hair sticking in all directions and one hand desperately trying to cover up the mouth-splitting yawn that stretches from one corner of her lips to the other, all while dressed in nothing but the shirt he usually sleeps in when he’s home?

His optics short-circuit right then and there.

“Cayde?”

Traveler above, even her voice is all drowsy, as if he’s just hauled her away from the nicest of dreams, and if he’s being honest, then he probably did just that with the coffee maker and everything, but he can’t really find himself to mind since he’s been blessed with such a wonderful, actually outright _adorable_ vision.

_Click_

His eyes shift from the woman in front of him to Sundance hovering just beside his head, focusing directly on the heavenly vision standing before him, and moments later there’s a small _ping_ going off inside of his head as a picture of his still-sleepy Guardian is brought up before him.

Cayde cracks a grin and holds out a cup of coffee, “Could I interest you in a shot of the elixir of life?”

“You are a _saint_ , Cayde,” she groans and immediately waddles over to wrap her dainty little hands around the cup and bring it up beneath her nose before inhaling, the action making the collar of the shirt slip down her shoulder and baring a _tantalizing_ amount of skin, still slightly mottled with bruises and lovebites from the night before.

This would be where he politely averts his eyes and instead looks _anywhere else_. He has one fucking job right now and that is to _not_ make this awkward.

But his shirt… oh, just thinking about her only wearing that shirt and nothing else does _things_ to his inner systems. Things that no Vanguard probably ought to think about their direct subordinates, but since when has Cayde _ever_ given a flying fuck about the rules of fraternization here in the Tower?

“That shirt,” he begins and swallows down a large gulp of coffee before daring to glance at her. “I, uh…”

To his utter astonishment her cheeks are bright red as she determinedly stares down at the coffee cup in her hands.

“I was just—it was the only thing I could find an—and I didn’t want to just wander out buck-ass naked, so I—”

“It—it’s _fine_ ,” he placates immediately with one hand held up for emphasis. “Trust me, it’s _fine_ —you just… you look _great_.”

At this she peeks up from behind her coffee cup, a question dancing behind her eyes.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods. “You look more than great.”

She blushes once more this time, but this time not out of mortification.

Yeah, she looks absolutely _wonderful_ in that shirt.


	2. Holding Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: holding hands

They haven’t been together for long before she figures out that Cayde has a tendency to touch her as much as he can. Nothing inappropriate, of course, but simple touches that can happen in everyday-life.

The first time it happens she’s in the middle of finishing the last few details on a report on Luna and the scouting mission she went on up there, when Cayde saunters in, throws himself on the couch and without so much as a by-your-leave takes one of her hands as hostage.

He isn’t wearing his usual leather gloves, and neither is she, so she feels every metal-plating and soft silicone mesh against her skin. Cayde only hums softly, backlights flickering a muted orange every now and then, as he traces invisible patterns on both the back of her hand and in her palm.

She tries to yank it back, eager to simply get the report done so she can throw her tablet in a corner and not look at it for the rest of the day and instead spend her time cuddled against her Vanguard, but Cayde is quick to get her hand back.

And it continues in public.

There are soft brushes of his fingers against hers if he’s handing her something or vice versa, a hand lingering around her shoulders when he leads her from the hangar to the spicy ramen shop that he has somehow managed to convince Zavala to allow; he always, somehow, manages to look utterly innocent when she pins him with a Look and in the end she sighs and returns to whatever it is that she’s doing, one hand in Cayde’s grasp as he plays with it.

He’s probably not even aware of him doing it at this point.

She isn’t bothered by it, quite the opposite in fact. If anything, she can’t help but feel the tiniest flutter in her heart every time that Cayde gives her that one million watt smile that only he can give someone and then takes her hand in his, fingers laced together and _everything_. He sure as Hell isn’t shy to declare their status to the rest of the world.

“It’ll bother some people,” she says one evening, the two of them nursing a glass of wine while watching the sun set behind the mountain range close to the Last City.

Cayde scoffs. “Let them. Ain’t their fucking approval I want.”

He tightens the grip on her hand and shifts to lace their fingers together, firmer than they were before.

It’s evening, there’s probably plenty of people wanting to give them weird looks and the sky is painted a million different colors of oranges and yellows, reds and purples and every shade inbetween, but for all that she cares the world could be ending because Cayde is with her, holding her hand, and she doesn’t need anything else right now.


	3. Washing hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: having their hair washed by the other

The humidity inside the bathroom barely big enough for the two of them is practically unbearable and if Cayde wasn’t an Exo he’d surely die of heatstroke or fluid in his lungs or _something_ because this shit is just straight up ridiculous.

He awkwardly shuffles backwards in the bathtub to make room for the Guardian and curses when his movement causes water to slip over the raised edges of the tub and soak the tiles on the floor.

“It’s alright, Cayde,” the Guardians laughs, sitting gloriously naked on the slippery edge and for all intents and purposes looking like she’s having the time of her life right now. “It’s just water.”

If it wasn’t for the ugly, still-darkening bruises that are snaking their way across her skin, he’d believe it too.

“Get in here,” he huffs and avoids looking into her eyes when she gets into the tub while giggling.

As soon as everything below her shoulders is submerged into the near-scalding water she leans back against him, her head resting on where his collarbone would be if he were human, and a pleased noise escaping her almost involuntarily.

“This feels _great_.”

There ought to be a Traveler-damned law against her talking like that, with the two of them being in the situation that they are, and Cayde is quick to dedicate more than a few processors on keeping his body in check.

“I s’pose so,” he mumbles as he searches blindly in the water for her hand, lacing their fingers together when he finds it. “Not really one for soaks like this.”

Her eyes have closed at some point, but one of them cracks open to look up at him. “You’ve been missing out, Cayde.”

“Can’t really see the appeal.”

“Why, because of your body?”

“Yeah. Usually a quick scrubbing and then a quick do-over with metal polish is enough to keep this Exo up and at ‘em.”

She laughs. It sounds like bells in Cayde’s head, or maybe that the bath-fumes getting to his wiring.

Through the small window that she always lets stay open he can hear the noises of the City below them. It’s evening and the sounds of vendors, vehicles and civilians sneak their way into the small bathroom.

It’s nice and quiet for once.

“Wash my hair?”

He blinks in surprise, her sudden comment pulling him out of the stupor he was in before. “Uh, what?”

“My hair,” she twists in his arms to look directly at him, only wincing slightly when the movement pulls on her skin. “I can’t reach when my arms are as sore as they are.”

“Oh, uh,” he fumbles for a moment as he accepts the steam-slippery bottle of shampoo and stares at it. “Sure?”

He doesn’t sound sure. He sounds like he has no clue whatsoever about how he’ll go about this because he hasn’t washed anybody’s hair in who knows how long, but there’s gotta be a first for everything, right?

The liquid inside is runny and keeps slipping through and into the cracks of his smaller joints in the fingers and he’s cursing up a storm before he’s even gotten her soapy.

This has to be a new low for him. It just has to.

“How’s it going back there?”

“It’s, uh, goin’… I _think_?”

He’s never doing this again and oh Traveler _why is his fingers getting caught in her hair now?!_

This is _so_ not his day.

“Cayde? You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stalls and looks around to see if the Gods are good and might have left some nifty scissors in his general area. “Just, ah, hit a little snag.”

She throws back her head to laugh and soap flies just _everywhere_ and his fingers are stuck in her hair and Cayde just feels like a damn idiot, but even so he can’t stop the grin from growing.


End file.
